The Cost of Nobility
by hmweasley
Summary: When the time comes to fight or go, Susan and Daphne make different decisions. Those decisions haunt them in the years that follow.


**A/N: Written for assignment 2 on Hogwarts Challenges and Assignments for the Mythology bonus assignment, task 5 "Write a story centered around the theme of forgiveness." It was also written for Sapphic Season on HPFC using the prompt "PTSD from the war."**

**Warning: discussion of mental health issues**

**Word count: 2,891**

* * *

Despite the efforts of McGonagall and many of the other professors, the Hogwarts entrance hall was hectic as students hurried about, some preparing to fight and others leaving. Susan weaved through the crowd, focused only on reaching Daphne.

Slytherins eyed her distrustfully as she passed, but she ignored them all until she finally spotted her girlfriend hovering near the staircase that a number of Slytherins were already ascending. Daphne eyed Susan warily as she approached, but Susan didn't have time to second guess what she was doing.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" she demanded the moment she came to a stop in front of Daphne.

Daphne sighed at looked away as she squirmed under Susan's piercing gaze.

"Astoria is only sixteen. She can't stay and fight. I have to make sure she's safe."

Susan shook her head frantically and grabbed Daphne by the shoulders to make her to look at her. Daphne turned towards her, but her eyes remained downcast as Susan spoke.

"Astoria will be with the others," Susan pleaded. "Please, you have to fight. We need everyone we can get."

If circumstances were different, perhaps she'd have been happy that the person she cared for most in the world was getting to safety, but Daphne fleeing was closer to her worst nightmare come to life. Their entire relationship had unfolded in secret, and despite Daphne's reassurances, Susan had never been confident that the immediate threat of the Carrows was the only reason Daphne wouldn't publicly disavow what many in her house stood for.

It took everything in Susan's power not to shake Daphne and demand to know when she would speak against the purebloods that she claimed to disagree with so ardently when they were alone.

"This is the end," Susan said, her voice low. "There won't be a chance to fight after this, Daphne. We either win or lose here. You know as well as I do that this is our last chance to change things, for better or worse."

Daphne stared back at her, her jaw tight and her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"I can't," she choked out. "I'm sorry, Susan, but I have to go with my sister."

Susan backed away, the rest of the crowd forgotten as she stared at Daphne. She clenched her fists as she did her best to rein in her anger.

"If I survive this," she whispered, "I never want to speak to you again."

Daphne stared at her, but couldn't speak. Eventually, she clenched her jaw and gave a short, resolute nod.

Susan disappeared into the crowd without looking back, her ears ringing as she went.

* * *

"I'm very proud of you, Susan. You've made a lot of progress since we began working together."

Susan scoffed, staring at the tree out the window instead of looking at her therapist. Healer Arnold was one of the best therapists in wizarding Britain, though there weren't many of them anyway. And Susan was grateful for some of the help the woman had provided her with over the years, but sometimes she still didn't feel like Healer Arnold understood her problems.

She turned to the Healer who was patiently waiting for her to speak.

"I had two flashbacks this week," Susan said flatly.

The reminder didn't lessen the Healer's smile.

"But you're doing better than you were when you came to your first appointment. That's something worth celebrating."

Susan let out a noncommittal noise, sliding down in her chair as if slouching would hide her from view. She'd expected opening up to become easier over time, but in many ways, it hadn't. She still felt too vulnerable at times to tell Healer Arnold everything she was thinking.

"I just wish I was one of the people who'd come out of the war unscathed," she muttered, staring at a corner of the low table that sat between therapist and patient.

Healer Arnold's quill scribbled something on the table beside her. Though it was half hidden, Susan's eyes narrowed in that direction.

"I understand that feeling," Healer Arnold said with a nod, not glancing at the quill herself.

Susan raised an eyebrow. Healer Arnold never spoke about herself, but as far as Susan was aware, the woman hadn't participated in the war. She knew for sure that the woman hadn't been at the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Perhaps," Healer Arnold continued, "more people were affected than you think. Many times we don't see the darkest things people deal with."

Susan shrugged and tilted her head back to rest on the back of the chair.

"But there are probably more people who are just fine," she muttered, not caring if Healer Arnold heard—or at least that's what she told herself.

"Is there anyone in particular this is about? Is there someone who you think wasn't affected?"

Susan slowly brought her gaze down from the ceiling to look at Healer Arnold. She knew the answer would be clear from her expression, but she didn't want to say it out loud. For the year she'd been seeing Healer Arnold, she had managed to avoid talking about Daphne. Any romances Susan had experienced, past or present, were never mentioned, and unlike other people in Susan's life, Healer Arnold had never asked her about it.

"There was a girl at Hogwarts," Susan said slowly, knowing that it would come to light sooner or later anyway. "She was my girlfriend. When the battle started, they gave us the choice to fight or go home. She left."

More scribbling from the quill even as Healer Arnold's gaze remained trained on Susan. She smiled.

"I can understand feeling betrayed by that," the woman said carefully. "That's perfectly understandable. Would you like to talk more about this girl?"

Susan considered the question. Despite her long held resistance to discussing the topic, it was almost tempting to dump it all out in one go. Perhaps it would make her feel better, but the thought of it also churned her stomach.

"No," she said simply, looking back to the window.

The quill scribbled away in the edge of her vision.

"Okay," Healer Arnold said simply, adjusting in her seat. "Another time if you're interested."

Susan gave a noncommittal noise and sank further down in her seat.

* * *

Sometimes, Susan wondered why she still went to therapy when she was always exhausted afterward. Maybe it helped and she subconsciously recognized it. Maybe it had just become a routine that she couldn't be bothered to change. Maybe she was still holding out for her problems to magically dissolve one day.

She wasn't sure. All she was sure of as she settled down at a booth in a corner of the Leaky Cauldron was that she was exhausted.

She flipped through the menu as she waited for Hannah despite knowing what she was going to order. When her best friend slid into the booth across from her, Susan hardly glanced up from her menu.

"How are things?" Hannah asked, setting a butterbeer that Susan hadn't asked for in front of her.

Susan took a large drink before answering.

"Same as last week," she said with a shrug. "You?"

"Busy," Hannah said with a sigh.

She sagged against the table.

"All the Hogwarts families are coming through and buying school supplies in Diagon Alley. But it should calm down soon."

Susan pursed her lips at the reminder of the time of year. She'd forgotten about the significance of August since she'd left school. It was no longer different than any other time of the year for her. But after being reminded, her memories went straight back to that castle—a time she would rather forget.

"What do you want to eat?"

Susan blinked at Hannah a few times as she processed the question. Hannah stared back, as if she hadn't noticed that her friend had been spaced out. But of course she had. Hannah had always read Susan easily.

"Just a sandwich, I think."

Hannah nodded and got up to give their order to one of the other employees.

When she slid back into the booth, she came on a mission.

"Neville and I had dinner with Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley recently."

Susan scowled at the reminder of how happy everyone else had become since the war. As much as she loved her friend, she sometimes hated her relationship with Neville for terribly selfish reasons.

She hummed in acknowledgement, not sure what else she was meant to say about it.

"You'll never guess who's joined the staff at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

She paused for a guess that Susan didn't give her.

"Daphne Greengrass," she said, pressing on and ignoring Susan's frown. "She's working with Hermione on drafting more humane laws governing house elves. Can you believe that? Daphne Greengrass publicly working at the Ministry on expanding the rights of magical beings."

Susan couldn't believe it. She was so shocked that she couldn't even speak, and Hannah's intense gaze only made the feeling worse.

Her shock soon gave way to bitterness.

Of course Daphne would finally gain a moral compass after the war, when her family's old positions were far more of a liability. She hadn't been able to find that same compassion for others when it had meant her potential downfall.

"I'm sure that works well for the Greengrasses," Susan muttered, fiddling with the pepper shaker to avoid looking at Hannah. "They can claim to be progressive with their eldest daughter at the Ministry, can't they?"

Hannah didn't have a chance to respond before their food arrived, and she seemed to think better of it anyway.

They didn't mention Daphne again, but the woman didn't leave Susan's mind no matter how hard she tried.

* * *

Susan had mixed feelings about the Ministry throwing a celebration to honor the end of the war. Despite Kingsley Shacklebolt being Minister for Magic and other recent changes in power, Susan couldn't forget the role the Ministry itself had played in the war. It ate at her as she maneuvered around the extravagant ballroom.

She wouldn't have come if Hannah hadn't insisted on it, and she regretted giving in the second she stepped inside. Her turquoise silk dress robes should have made her feel elegant, but they only made her feel like a fool. She couldn't stop glancing at the monument that had been constructed to honour the fallen in the middle of the room, but she couldn't bring herself to really look at it either.

A cool breeze hit her from nowhere as she wove her way through the crowd towards the exit, and she tightened her arms around her abdomen.

Speeches were about to start, and bile stung at the back of her throat at the thought of what would be said. She couldn't stand around and listen to others lamenting what had happened. Many of those gathered had experienced what she had, but many more had been safely ensconced in their homes during the battle. They didn't understand what Susan and the others had faced. She wouldn't listen to them praise those who had actually fought.

The hall was draftier than the ballroom had been. Susan leant against the stone wall, ignoring the chill of it as she hugged herself. She squeezed her eyes shut and thought about her favourite things, just like her therapist had instructed her to do when things got to be too much.

The door to the ballroom cracked open, letting out a small stream of light that made Susan squint and bring a hand up to cover her eyes.

Daphne Greengrass slid through the smallest opening she could manage and straightened her robes before glancing up to find Susan next to the door. Her posture stiffened. Susan was frozen in place, unable to do anything except stare at the woman she hadn't seen since she was eighteen and preparing to go to battle.

Somehow, she was exactly the same and entirely different at the same time.

Her light brown hair appeared to be the same length, but it was in an elaborate updo not unlike the one she'd worn to the Yule Ball where she'd first caught Susan's attention.

There was something about her face that was different, older, but Susan was scared to stare too long and find out what it was. She did notice that the piercing grey eyes were exactly the same, and they were looking at her with the same sadness that Susan remembered vividly from the last time they'd seen each other.

"You looked upset when you were leaving," Daphne said, sticking her hands behind her back as if she was hiding something. "I wanted to make sure everything was okay."

Susan sighed and closed her eyes, tilting her head back to rest against the cold stone. Daphne's voice was another thing that hadn't changed.

"I'm fine," Susan said, her own voice choked. "Really. You don't need to check on me."

She wanted to sound forceful, but in the moment, she felt too weak for that. Daphne didn't leave her. Instead, she came closer, leaning against the stone and going so far as kicking her heels off. Susan stared at the shoes as they clattered to the floor. They were from one of the old name wizarding designers, one who Daphne's parents favoured but Daphne had mocked for still creating shoes from the middle ages.

At school, Daphne had sworn she'd never wear a pair of their shoes again once she was an adult. Clearly, that hadn't happened.

"I heard you're working at the Ministry now," Susan said without looking over at Daphne.

She felt heat radiating from Daphne in the drafty corridor, and it fogged her mind, making it difficult to make smart choices.

Daphne turned to her with an amused smirk on her lips, and Susan's stomach tightened. She looked back at the ground, her eyes drawn to the shiny black shoes.

"I am," she said with a chuckle. "After the war, I became interested in law. With all the accused Death Eaters facing trial, it felt important to know about that sort of thing, so I studied until I became something like an expert. Granger is pretty ambitious about changing the laws surrounding magical creatures and beings, so I guess I was a decent enough resource."

Susan glanced at her with one eyebrow raised.

"And you agreed?" she asked. "You wanted to help her expand rights for house elves and werewolves or whatever else she's working on?"

Daphne shrugged.

"I'm not as passionate about it as she is, but I'm not against it either. To be honest, I never thought about what a tough break they get until I started working for Granger, who never shuts up about it. At first, it was just a job for me. The implications were whatever. All I needed to do was make sure that any laws Granger proposed didn't exist already or didn't directly contradict a different law. Things like that. But I've come to kind of like the work. It feels like I'm making a difference sometimes."

It was a lot for Susan to process. She wasn't surprised that Daphne hadn't cared much about what she was doing at the beginning, but that she had come to care at all left Susan with a foolish hope that she hadn't wanted to feel.

"I regret leaving."

Susan stiffened and turned to look at Daphne, who stared back with an intense gaze that sent shudders down Susan's spine.

"At the Battle of Hogwarts," Daphne clarified. "I shouldn't have left. The second Astoria and I made it back to Greengrass Manor, I wanted to go back, but my parents wouldn't let me. I was terrified about what might be happening to you. I read every single word of every single _Prophet_ until I was sure that you were alive."

Susan pressed her lips together. It was tempting to retort that Daphne wouldn't have had questions about her fate if she'd been there, but for the first time in years, Susan realized that she didn't want to fight about the past.

"Please, Susan," Daphne begged, leaning closer. The dim light of the corridor sparkled in her grey eyes. "I know I made a terrible mistake, and it isn't forgivable, but… I think about you every day, and if I could go back in time to change it, I would."

Susan forced herself to hold Daphne's gaze.

"I know," she said, her voice hoarse from her emotions.

Daphne beamed at her, and tears stung at Susan's eyes.

"It was really hard," Susan whispered as her emotions overpowered her. "When you left. After the war. It's been so hard, and all I wanted was for you to be there, but you weren't."

Daphne nodded, her smile dimming and tears shining in her own eyes.

"I know. I really am sorry."

Unable to help herself any longer, Susan threw herself at Daphne, snaking her arms around the other woman's waist and holding her tightly. Daphne returned the embrace, burying her face into the crook of Susan's neck and kissing the skin there. Susan broke, her sobs wracking her body, and Daphne held her tighter.

Neither of them cared if someone else stumbled out of the ballroom to find them in each other's arms. Their days of worrying what others would say were long past.


End file.
